I Never Knew
by disabledaccount06
Summary: It's been 18 years since the Revolution was won and the Regierung has taken control. But a small group of freedom fighters still exist, and in an attempt to destroy the government kidnap the Regierung's heir. But when a mistake is made everything changes.
1. Default Chapter

The Disclaimer  
  
Ok, I get really sick of writing these things so I thought I would simply get it all out of the way now.  
  
No, Harry Potter is not mine; he belongs to very rich WB people and J.K. Rowling. I am merely using their characters instead of studying for biology because it is much more interesting then the characteristics of Class Insecta (if anyone has info about that by the way I'd be eternally grateful).  
  
Author's Note  
  
This idea was born when my dear beta Kelley told me that if J.K. Rowling was smart she would let the Death Eaters win so she could expand the series and make more money. After laughing at her I wondered what would happen to our heroes if the Death Eaters did win. I've read a few fics on the subject, and they all involved a lot of Unforgivable Curses and sex. So in my never ending break the mold campaign I decided that when I'm not updating my other fic I could write this one. Also, if anyone's interested in Beta-ing (however you spell that) please tell me, because I Kelley said I'm abandoning my other project and she will not support it (what a good friend). That is all and thanks for reading. 


	2. Prologue

Prologue  
  
"You can't see the stars tonight."  
  
Will turned his head toward Kathleen, not sure if he heard her right.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You can't see the stars tonight. Too much fog." She paused for a moment and let the cool breeze caress her cheek as she gazed at the water below her. "The night hangs low."  
  
Will looked at her like she was crazy.  
  
"Did you honestly just say 'the night hangs low?"  
  
Kathleen grinned.  
  
"I feel poetic tonight."  
  
"What the bloody hell is making you feel poetic?"  
  
Kathleen simply shrugged and let out a soft sigh.  
  
"This Will, what we're doing, our whole lives. It just hits me sometimes and I feel poetic."  
  
"Blowing stuff up makes you poetic? Damn, Kath, I knew you were a pyromaniac, but you never spewed me a sonnet about it before."  
  
"Not the bomb you moron. This is much more significant then that. We're writing history. We're making the world a better place. Doesn't that ever get to you?"  
  
Will just stared at her. "It's really too bad you didn't go to St. Thomas, they really would have loved you."  
  
Kathleen shuddered and stared at the railing of the bridge before returning her gaze to the water.  
  
"Murderers and traitors built that school and send their wretched children there, so they can grow up to be just like their parents. I'm not like that."  
  
"Well, according to the Daily Prophet you're a terrorist."  
  
"That's because the DE runs the Daily Prophet and every other bloody thing in this country. There's no freedom of the press anymore Will. There's no freedom of anything. And I am not a terrorist."  
  
"Well you protest the government by blowing up their buildings. That's not terrorism?"  
  
"No. I blow up their buildings to prevent them from spreading their propaganda. I haven't hurt anyone. I have an amazing no casualty record."  
  
"That is true. No one else has clean runs."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
He paused. "So is everyone else a terrorist?"  
  
"Look, Will it doesn't matter. They are the bad guys; we are fighting them for the good of the world. We are not the terrorists, they are."  
  
She turned toward him and noticed he looked worried. She let out a thin smile. He was worse then her mother. But she wasn't complaining. Ever since they were children she had planned and he had worried. It was a bit of normality in her crazy non-terrorist life, and she clung to it.  
  
"You're awfully worked up tonight Kath. Why? This isn't the first time we've done this."  
  
"And it won't be our last unless the DE catches up with us."  
  
Will smiled bravely and flicked a pebble off the rail's ledge into the Thames.  
  
"They won't."  
  
Kathleen was about to agree when a white flare streaked across the sky.  
  
"GO!"  
  
She ran. Ran for her life, knowing that the flare gave her approximately eight seconds before explosion. They were precious seconds needed for escape, before the hysteria, the DE, the press, and before she and her friends were once again hailed as terrorists.  
  
"HERE!"  
  
She followed Will into an alley behind an old dumpster.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
She wrinkled her nose and was about to respond.  
  
Then the blast went off.  
  
A/N: I know it may be hard to follow, but I will write the next chapter very soon and more will be explained. And it will be much longer. Remember to review! 


	3. Normal Functional Families

Chapter 1  
"Mione!"  
  
Hermione folded the shirt and placed it inside the mahogany drawer.  
  
"What, Tessa?"  
  
"Turn on the radio, Mindy just owled me and said they might cancel school!"  
  
Hermione smiled and placed the last shirt inside the wardrobe before closing the drawer. She stood and stretched her back with a moan. She really had to get something for it. She had hoped her backaches were temporary, but it looked like that was going to be wishful thinking. Pushing her hair out of her face, she crossed the room and switched on the radio.  
  
"The bomb went off at 2:15 am at the executive offices of Regierung Communication Head Quarters. These are the offices of Communications President Alfred Nott and his immediate staff, including Christina Winslow, editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet. While no fractions have claimed responsibility, a white flare was seen beforehand, which is a sign of the terrorist organization Operation Phoenix. There were no casualties, however two members of WNN staff are in the hospital with non-life threatening injuries. In response to the attack, Supreme Lord Voldermort II is expected to speak later this afternoon. St. Thomas School of Magical Training has announced that school will proceed as usual-"  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
With a swift kick, Tessa knocked over her trashcan and a pile of tissues blotted with lipstick tumbled out. She rolled her eyes and slammed a fist on the marble counter of the vanity.  
  
"When these attacks first started we always got school out. Now they barely raise an eyebrow. What do they have to do nowadays for anyone to respond?" she muttered, not taking her eyes off of the blue- green marble.  
  
Hermione didn't answer, but merely walked to the trashcan and started to pick up the tissues.  
  
"No, it's ok, I've got it."  
  
Tessa bent over to relieve her. Hermione let out a sigh, wishing she could let her, but if her mother saw her picking up trash while Hermione just stood there, it would be bad for both of them.  
  
"Don't worry about it, dear, I'm fine."  
  
Tessa wrinkled her nose.  
  
"I'm perfectly capable of picking up my own trash. And I don't have a bad back."  
  
"But you do have a mother obsessed with decorum and etiquette, who would not be pleased to see her only daughter doing servant's work."  
  
"You're not a servant, Mione."  
  
Hermione paused momentarily before scooping the last of the tissues into the trashcan.  
  
"No, I'm not, but it's still my job."  
  
When she looked up, she found Tessa studying her with a look of pity in her grey eyes. She grew uncomfortable under the gaze and returned to her task of setting up the trash can.  
"You need to finish your hair."  
  
"Oh, yeah"  
  
Tessa smiled and headed back to the vanity to return to work on her half- curled locks.  
  
Hermione headed back to switch off the radio.  
  
"All we can do is hope that these attacks stop soon and we can return to peace. I'm Cynthia Knight, and you're listening to the Wizarding News Network, London.  
  
*  
  
"Kathleen, did you blow up Nott's office?"  
  
Kathleen continued to read and took another bite of her eggs.  
  
"Now Josh, why would I do a thing like that? Blowing up Nott's office, why someone would really have to hate the government to blow up the chief of brainwashing propaganda's office."  
  
"Kath, if I wanted your sarcasm, I would have asked for it."  
  
Kathleen folded the paper she had been reading and returned his accusing gaze. He was so passive and accepting of this world, she really didn't know what was wrong with him sometimes. It didn't take a whole lot of common sense to see that the government, or 'Regierung' as they insisted on being called, was wrong, but he refused to help fight it. It was really too bad, he was always so precise; he'd help a lot. But he always shook his head and then got mad at her when anything happened. It was hard to believe they were related sometimes.  
  
"Yes, me and Will were both there."  
  
He groaned and tipped his head back.  
  
"Oh, Kathleen."  
  
"What, Joshua?" she asked, rolling her eyes upward.  
  
He sat back up.  
  
"First of all, I don't get you. You're really not doing any good you know. No one really benefits when you blow up some Regierung building. Not you, not Will, and certainly not any one in our family that had to work for them."  
  
"No one in our family works for the government, they are slaves to the bunch of murdering bastards that run it!"  
  
"So! Mum works for the Daily Prophet. And you blew up Christina Winslow's office! You think it's easy for any them when these attacks happen. And second of all, it's Will and I."  
  
Kathleen returned her gaze from the ceiling back to Josh.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You said me and Will were both there. It should have been Will and I were both there."  
  
Kathleen just stared incredulously.  
  
"Did you honestly just correct my grammar in the middle of one of your pacifist rants?"  
  
"Yes, I did. One of us went to school."  
  
"Until they were expelled for fighting with the future Supreme Lord Arsehole IV."  
  
Josh glared at her as he took a sip from his mug.  
  
"He started it, you know that."  
  
"I also know had your last name been Lestrang instead of Potter, you would have gotten a slap on the wrist and been sent your merry way. I notice he didn't get expelled."  
  
Josh finished his last bite of toast.  
  
"It doesn't matter Kath, the point is-"  
  
"The point is they're wrong, you know it, and I'm trying to do something about it."  
  
"Fine then, it's your life, and if you want to end up dead or in Azkaban, that's your problem."  
  
"What's her problem?"  
  
Kathleen quickly swallowed her sausage as her mother walked in, dressed for work and carrying a bundle of paperwork. Luckily, her mother hadn't seemed to have heard their conversation. She knew nothing of Kathleen's role in the recent building bombings, and Kathleen would like to keep it that way.  
  
"Hi, Mum! How did you sleep?"  
  
"Quite well, thank you. Now, what's your problem?"  
  
"Nothing, Josh was merely correcting me on my grammar and being quite rude about it if I do say so."  
  
"Well, he did go to school for four years, unlike you dear," she chided, flipping a dark lock behind her shoulder.  
  
Kathleen rolled her eyes, not looking forward to another conversation with her mother about her untapped potential.  
  
"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady. All I'm saying is maybe you should listen to him next time he corrects you." She took the hair band off her wrist and started to pull her black hair into a loose bun. "William! Get out of bed and come eat!"  
  
She sighed and gave Kathleen a smile over the rim of her coffee cup as Will stomped down the stairs.  
  
"Can't a man sleep around here?" he asked grumpily.  
  
"Not a man who has work at noon. Now before you all go I want these dishes done and the parlor cleaned, got it? Now it will probably be a long day. I was listening to the WNN this morning and it seemed my boss had her office blown up. So if I'm not home by seven, you're on your own for dinner. I'll see you later."  
  
"Okay Mum," Josh murmured.  
  
"Go file Winslow's paperwork like you've never filed it before," Will chimed in.  
  
She rolled her eyes and headed out the door.  
  
"See, what did I tell you? You blow up an office, and Mum has to do overtime."  
  
"Shut up, Joshua!"  
  
"Nah, she'll be okay Josh. She's only on the staff of Winslow's secretary's, secretary's, secretary, so she won't be bugged too bad by it," Will assured him with a mouth full of beans.  
  
"Whatever, you two. I have to get ready for work."  
  
Kathleen sighed and watched as her twin stood and walked out of the room.  
  
*  
  
Narcissa Malfoy held her coffee cup in one hand and a bagel in the other. Both were fresh and hot, but she paid them no heed. She simply stared at her daughter-in-law.  
  
"I'm sorry, Pansy, they blew up what?"  
  
"Al and Christina's offices."  
  
Narcissa let out a groan. Other then that she made no move, only closed her eyes. Pansy steadily grew uneasy. She wasn't completely sure she trusted the woman who so thoroughly controlled the Manor, and everyone in it. What she was planning to do behind those closed eyes was beyond Pansy, but she was sure she wouldn't like it.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Pansy looked up, startled. Narcissa's eyes were open now, and she was smiling, the stunning yet deceptive smile she always gave.  
  
"No need worrying too much. Let's go eat breakfast."  
  
She placed her food on a silver serving-tray and handed it back to the house elf before turning towards the breakfast room. Pansy stared after her in disbelief.  
  
"Did you not here me?"  
  
"I heard you perfectly clear. There was another bombing. So what else is new? I'll write to Christina later today and offer my condolences. Then I'll invite Al and Laura over for dinner, we haven't had them in a long time, and they're such excellent guests. Remember that wine they brought us, where was that from again?"  
  
"Florence."  
  
"Yes, Florence. Speaking of which, we haven't been to Florence since we were planning your honeymoon, goodness that's a long time. When school lets out for holiday, we should take Tessa and Dace. They've seen precious little of Italy, only Rome and Vienna, and Lord knows those cities could use a cleaning. But Florence is still very beautiful; it's aged very well. How long have you been married again?"  
  
"Nineteen years in August."  
  
"Nineteen years! Yes, see that's much too long."  
  
By then they had reached the breakfast room. It was a simple room by the Manor's standards, painted azure blue with silver accents. Velvet curtains hung over full-length windows and oak paneling covered the walls and floors. The long polished table was set with china and silver dishes. Sitting at one of the velvet-lined chairs was Dacian, spreading tangerine marmalade on his toast while reading a Potions essay.  
  
"When is that due?" Pansy asked her son suspiciously.  
  
"Yesterday."  
  
"Dacian!"  
  
"Now dear, get off his back, a boy is only 18 once, let him enjoy himself. Besides what are they going to do, we own the bloody school. Who's teaching Potions these days, Dace?"  
  
"His name's Augustus Henrik. He's some German bloke who couldn't cut it at Hogwarts, but worked well with cauldrons. I barely understand a word he's saying. I'm telling you, if it wasn't for Mindy, I would fail my mind out."  
  
"Yes, Dacian, we are all grateful you have a brilliant girlfriend."  
  
"You scoff Mum, but she's the driving force in my education."  
  
"Meaning, you don't care enough to do it without her 'motivation.' And only her motivation. Why do you think we hired you a private tutor, Dacian? To motivate you! I can't imagine what Melina does to get you studying."  
  
"Now Pansy, Dace can't be doing anything you weren't doing while you were in school."  
  
Pansy knew better then to rise to Narcissa's bait. Narcissa knew exactly what she had done while in school, and it was her fear that Dacian was doing just that.  
  
"Anyway, Melina-"  
  
"What is with you and nicknames, Mum? No one calls her Melina or ever has, it's only her name because Hannah Flint couldn't stand to put something as informal as Mindy on her daughter's birth certificate, even though she planned on calling her that from day one."  
  
"Don't interrupt me again, Dacian. If her name is Melina, I will call her Melina. And like I was saying, she always came across as trying to push herself into this family. She becomes 'best friends' with Theresia, starts dating you. There's something fishy about that girl."  
  
"Hmm, sounds like some else we know, Pansy."  
  
Pansy gave Narcissa an incredulous glare, desperately hoping Dacian didn't catch on to the reference when her husband walked in.  
  
"Oh, Draco, you're just in time, we were about to sit down for breakfast."  
  
Draco looked at her confused.  
  
"Mum, since when do we sit down for breakfast?"  
  
"Since today, now where are Tessa and your father?"  
  
"I'm here, honey, but I'm going to have to grab a Danish and go; there's an emergency," Lucius announced as he entered the room. Although his clothes and hair were immaculate, the bags under his eyes were deepened, an ever- present sign of his growing stress.  
  
"Really, Lucius, what?"  
  
"Some of those crazy terrorists blew up Al and his staff's offices.  
  
"I know I heard that. What's the emergency?"  
  
Man, she is on a roll this morning, Pansy thought as Lucius tried to get him wife to understand the disaster it was that his communication executives had lost their million dollar offices. But the pretty blond was not buying it.  
  
"You are not going to run off this morning, we are going to sit down and eat breakfast like all normal, functional families do."  
  
"Mum, since when are we a normal, functional family?"  
  
"Don't you get snippy with me, Draco. I don't care if you're grown, I am still you're mother, and I will still demand respect. Now we are going to sit down and eat this lovely breakfast that was prepared for us by the not- so-lovely house elves."  
  
Dacian glanced up from his essay and gave his grandmother a weird look  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind her dear. Where is your sister?"  
  
"Probably doing her, hair and all that girly stuff."  
  
"Well she takes entirely too long doing it," Pansy muttered. "THERESIA MACKENZIE MALFOY! HURRY UP!"  
  
Her daughter came running into the room.  
  
"What the hell is the bloody matter?"  
  
"It's time for breakfast and don't you use that language. It's undignified and you come off unattractive and will never attract a husband."  
  
"And what a tragedy that would be. Honestly Mum, my life doesn't revolve around a marriage that's ten years away."  
  
Pansy looked scandalized.  
  
"You are most certainly not going to wait until you're twenty-six to get married!"  
  
"Why not? Dacian can wait till he's thirty. You said so."  
  
"Dacian's a man, and will be a very powerful one at that. He doesn't need to worry about marriage like you do."  
  
"Oh, I see. The men go run the country, and the women stay at home and run the house elves. The world isn't like that anymore! Look at Emma Nott, she's on Grandpa's staff."  
  
"Do not get me started on Emma Nott, that woman-"  
  
"Okay you two, that's enough fighting for one morning," Draco broke in. "Pansy, dear, Tessa's very young, she doesn't need to worry about getting married quite yet. Tessa, please don't talk to your mother like that."  
  
"Fine."  
  
She flopped in a chair and started buttering a muffin before turning back to her father.  
"I thought you two would be long gone by now."  
  
"We tried," he admitted giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "But your grandmother detained us. She insists that we eat breakfast 'like a normal functional family.'"  
  
"Yes I do," Narcissa shot back in defense. "Now Pansy, pass the bacon."  
  
So they ate, though rather hurriedly, until Narcissa was satisfied, and then the early-morning-must-get-to-school/work-rush set in.  
  
"Now you two behave. I don't want any owls from the headmaster, understand?" Draco called to his children as they headed out the door to the awaiting car.  
  
"Since when do you get owls about us from the headmaster?" Tessa challenged.  
  
Draco laughed.  
  
"Good point, how about we keep it that way."  
  
She giggled as he kissed her cheek.  
  
"Have fun, love."  
  
"As much as I can."  
  
"Oh love, be a little happier."  
  
She gave him a look of exasperation.  
  
He smiled wickedly and then broke into song.  
  
"And when the broken hearted people, living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be."  
  
"Oh Dad, it's too early for singing!" she complained as he continued.  
  
"For though they may be parted there is, still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer, let it be. Let it be, let it be. Yeah there will be an answer, let it be."  
  
At the refrain she shut the car's door, the Beatles tune still in her head.  
A/N: Sorry this took longer then I expected, but my beta had some computer troubles and I've been really sick. I was even sick on my birthday. (. Anyway thanks to for reading and please review! 


	4. Come Sail Away

Chapter 2  
  
I follow the night Can't stand the light When will I begin To live again One day I'll fly away Leave all this to yesterday Why live life from dream to dream And dread the day when dreaming ends  
  
*  
  
When the days grow long and the work is hard the natural human defense is to go back to a time when it was easier. This is why at the end of the day, the older generations like to slip their feet into their slippers pick up their mug of fresh coffee in one hand and the paper in the other and talk about the "good old days." This especially held true in a little English town called Hogsmeade.  
  
Before the revolution Hogsmeade had been near perfect. It was one of those picturesque, postcard town with friendly locals and a relaxed atmosphere. Little antique-style shops and country cottages all in shades of faded blue and yellow made up the architecture of the town, nothing fancy, but that's the way people like Hogsmeade. It had a train station in town, was a mere ten miles from the sea, and was the only total non-Muggle settlement in England. These factors made it a haven for the tired and frazzled who were at wits end, as well as the young and carefree who wanted to enjoy a day at the beach. But that was before the Revolution.  
  
The fighting at the nearby Hogwarts Castle had all but utterly destroyed the once beloved village. It soon became home to the outcasts. The destitute, outlaws, Regierung exiles, family members of war enemies, and those who made money off of them were now the occupants of Hogsmeade. At night the streets were filled with drunks, prostitutes, and Death Eaters, who came down from Hogwarts.  
  
The Death Eaters, the Regierung's "elite" military league and the only resemblance of law enforcement in Hogsmeade, presence in Hogsmeade was no accident. Aware that the town was filling up with enemies and outlaws the Regierung had strategically made Hogwarts Castle the center for their unique army. It now loomed over Hogsmeade, a constant reminder of to the weary citizens of what it had become.  
  
Kathleen Potter found it terribly ironic that she had to live here.  
  
She followed Will and Josh slowly, listening to their laughter. She really hated this town. To her it was the ultimate symbol of the government's success in oppression. Her mom talked about what a lovely town it had been, back when it was a real town and not a DE brothel, and back when Hogwarts had been a real school and not Hell's training grounds. But to Kathleen, Hogsmeade reeked of failure.  
  
"Hey, Kath do you actually plan on working today, or are you hoping that Hank will pay you for looking at Hogwarts?"  
  
"I can dream can't I?" she replied dryly before following Will into the bar.  
  
The dimly let building, which was simply called Hank's Pub, had three distinguishing features. One was the bar. The bar itself wasn't especially impressive, but it's reputation proceeded it. At the bar you could be served anything, from water to Coke-Cola to domestic beers to fine wines. Everyone around the town knew it was the best spot, and any visitors desiring a drink was quickly pointed in it's direction. The second feature was the old jukebox. It was a simple Muggle jukebox, but it had been bewitched to play any song the user desired, not just the mere fifty it came programmed with. It also received the WWN broadcast, so it served as the town's main news source, as most of Hogsmeade's occupants were not lucky enough to own their own radio. The third and most impressive was Hank Carlyle himself.  
  
As she started to wipe down the bar Kathleen thought that if she hadn't had known him her entire life, she would never had guessed by looking at him that he was the most respected man in a town. Besides being the most successful business owner he also served as mayor. His main job was covering up Hogsmeade's crime scene enough to satisfy the Regierung. This was no easy task, and one he only accomplished by getting along with everyone. He was extremely friendly and accepting, everyone was welcomed to his pub for example, which in turn made him well liked.  
  
He certainly didn't look like a hard-core law enforcer. He was at least middle aged, probably older, but no one knew for sure. He was tall and lean with short, dark hair, and was actually not bad looking for his elusive age. His only bad feature was his nose. It looked like he had gotten in a fight with cleaver, and his nose had been the unfortunate victim. While Kathleen wasn't a great fan of long noses, she found his to be much to short, more of a flab of skin to cover his nostrils then a real nose. It had frightened her as a child, repulsed her as a teenager, and fascinated her now as a young adult. Everyone in Hogsmeade had a story. Some were known, some weren't. Hank's wasn't. And she was sure his nose was connected to why he was running a business here, and not in a more populated region. People didn't look like they had parts of their face hacked off for no reason.  
  
Hank and his mysterious nose were currently settled at one of the tables by the jukebox. He was reading the Daily Prophet while drinking out of a blue china mug (which Kathleen happened to know held a cup of black coffee with a dash of firewhiskey) and listening to the morning report. The particularly annoying and terribly inarticulate correspondent Cynthia Knight was blabbering about some report about St. Thomas and its delinquent students. Kathleen could think of no worse way to start the morning then listening to some bimbo who couldn't talk and only got her job because she was Christina Winslow's niece.  
  
"Hank must we listen to this nonsense?" she whined while pausing in her work.  
  
Hank took a sip out of his mug.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she could utter as much as a syllable.  
  
"You can not totally reject the world you live in just because you don't like the way it's going. This radio is your only connection to the outside. And as much as the idea repulses you, I would much rather see you become a Regierung worker then a barmaid."  
  
Kathleen shuddered and resumed her scrubbing.  
  
"How about neither. I'm certainly not staying here any longer then I have to. I'm telling you, the minute I turn eighteen I am gone."  
  
"Where will you go?"  
  
She paused for another moment and then went back to work with unnecessary force.  
  
"Anywhere but here."  
  
*  
  
"Is it just my imagination, or does this class get more boring every day?" Mindy whispered from the side to Tessa's left.  
  
Tessa nodded in agreement as she continued French braiding Rachel Zabini's hair. She had long given up on school, deeming it all pointless, with the exception of Charms. When her mother got aggravated with her dropping grades, Tessa had used her own argument against her, pointing out that St. Thomas' formal education wouldn't help become the cultured wife of a Regierung official.  
  
Mindy, on the other hand, generally enjoyed school, but was quickly becoming dissatisfied with their new, foreign Potions professor.  
  
Rachel turned her head around slowly, as not to mess Tessa up.  
  
"Why did we even have to come to school today? When my slave told me about the bombings, I thought for sure we'd stay home."  
  
"It's because if they cancelled school they'd set the precedent to cancel school every time. Plus they want to give those Phoenix people a 'we are not intimidated' type statement," Mindy explained.  
  
"Miss Flint, Miss Zabini, Miss Malfoy, do you have something you'd like to share with the class?  
  
"Actually, yes Professor," Mindy replied smoothly. "As I was just saying to Rachel and Theresia, I found it unusually that with pigment changing potions, on alive subjects, you add the dragon scales after the ragweed stems, when in color changing potions on inanimate subjects, you add the scales before the ragweed, and I was wondering if it had something to do with the advanced structures in the alive subjects."  
  
He looked both disappointed and impressed.  
  
"Actually Miss Flint is correct. You see-"  
  
And with that he droned back on about whatever the hell Mindy had said to him. Once she was sure he was completely distracted, Rachel turned back around.  
  
"Why does the Regierung care what those phoenix freaks think about them? What can a handful of ragtag terrorists have against the most powerful government in the world?"  
  
"Well, they're just a handful now." Mindy started. " But not everyone's happy with the Regierung, and if they see the Phoenixes succeeding then they'll rise up too, and then the Regierung will have a coup d'etat on their hands."  
  
"A coup d-what?" Rachel asked wrinkling her nose like she had smelt something unpleasant.  
  
"A coup d'etat, it's French for-"  
  
"I know what it means, it's just that I can't see a revolution starting because we get out of school for a day!"  
  
"It's just the principle of the matter Rachel."  
  
"Miss Flint.'  
  
"Sorry, professor. I was just telling Rachel that you must be the single most challenging professor I've ever had," she said with false sincerity, flashing one of her smiles.  
  
"If she wasn't so jealous of Mindy, Mom would love her," Tessa thought with a twang of jealousy. "She's the daughter she always wanted."  
  
But Tessa really wasn't too jealous of her best friend. Even if Mindy was smarter, prettier, and more popular then her, she also had even more problems at her house. On top of smoking, her own father's habit that Tessa despised, Marcus Flint drank heavily, too. It wasn't unusual for him to take weekend trips to Hogsmeade, and hit up the bars. When he wasn't drinking he was constantly pressuring Mindy to bring up her grades, which Tessa found both ridiculous and impossible. Her mother was even more demanding then Tessa's. Because of the Malfoy's position of absolute power, Tessa's marriage would, quite literally, be the best money could buy. The Flints, while generally respected, were not nearly as well off. Tara Flint saw Mindy's relationship with Dace as her way into high society, and put endless pressure on Mindy to make it work out.  
  
At that moment the bell rung, freeing them all from the drudgery of Potion's class. After waiting a moment in order to avoid the jostling contests her peers always managed to create, Tessa followed Rachel and Mindy into the long hall of St. Thomas.  
  
St. Thomas was set up like a prison, one story with a single, endless hallway with the classrooms coming off of it like cells. It was named after Supreme Lord Voldemort I, who really wasn't a saint, but was hailed as one by the Regierung.  
  
At the end of the hallway laid the girl's destination, the Dining Hall. The white, sterile room always seemed too bright and clean, almost daring her to just try and dirty it. It reminded her of when she was three and had spilt grape juice in her mother's white couch in her private sitting room. Her furious screams had caused Tessa to run out of the room sobbing. Luckily her father rescued her, and took her to a nearby lake where they fed the ducks and gave her mother time to regain her composure.  
  
Tessa followed Rachel to one of the circular tables that filled the Dining Hall. It was the same table she had eaten at for the last ten years, ever since she started at St. Thomas. She had always sat there with Mindy, Rachel, Violet Burgess, and Tara Avery. Over the years various boyfriends had been added and then, in turn, dismissed. Dace was, much to Tessa's displeasure, the newest table addition, along with his best friend Hilary Lestrang, who Tara had recently taken a fancy to.  
  
Rachel eyed Tessa's school bag with suspicion.  
  
"Where's your lunch Tess?  
  
"I'm just eating off of Vi today," Tessa replied nonchalantly.  
  
Rachel's gaze became more sympathetic.  
  
"Trouble on the home front again?"  
  
"Why do you assume that every time I don't bring a lunch there's trouble at my house?"  
  
"Oh please Tess, don't pull this bullshit, I've known you too long. Whenever your parents have another fight, you don't eat for another week. Your mom would be furious if she knew."  
  
"If you've known me so long Rachel, how come you think I give a damn about what my mother thinks?"  
  
"What about your dad? He wouldn't exactly be thrilled to know you become semi-anorexic half the time."  
  
Tessa didn't answer. Luckily at that moment Mindy arrived with Dace and Hilary in tow, and just moments later Tara and Violet joined them. As the table fell into comfortable chatter about absolutely nothing, Rachel still kept her eye on Tessa. During the hour lunch break she ate exactly two strawberries and a spoonful of yogurt.  
  
*  
  
It was really no wonder that cigarettes were considered a sex symbol. Slim, white, and smooth, they fit perfectly between your fingers and rest easily on your lips.  
  
He finished his mental examination of the fag and pulled out a silver metallic lighter. With a wisp of flame the end crumpled into black ash. He brought it too his lips and inhaled, savoring the taste before letting out a long tendril of smoke.  
  
He really should quit smoking, and he knew it. Tessa absolutely hated the habit and wouldn't come near him if she smelt smoke on his clothes. But work had been hell, and even though it had been expected, it didn't make the ordeal any less torturous. He wanted to come home and just relax, but no, that couldn't be. Pansy and Dace were having another row, this time about whether or not he could bring Mindy Flint to a Regierung event they were attending next week. Pansy had expected him to take her side, and when he didn't she became irrational and moody for the rest of the evening. He had to escape all of them, and if the only way was through a cancer- causing agent, then so be it. No one lives forever.  
  
He let out another breath of smoke, before leaning out on the balcony's railing and taking inhaling the night air. September was, without a doubt his favorite time of year. Tonight was exceptionally nice, with cool breezes filling the open grounds of Malfoy Manor. He was about to raise the fag again when a nearby voice interrupted his musings.  
  
"Smoking kills you know."  
  
He lowered the fag as a smile played across his lips.  
  
"You sound like Tessa."  
  
"That's not much of a shock considering I live with her."  
  
She stood at the door with a basket of clothes (presumably Tessa's) balanced on one hip. Her expression was a mixture of exasperation and understanding. He understood her emotions well, she, like Tessa, didn't fancy his smoking habit, but she lived in this house too. She saw everything he did, and probably more. She understood the need to get away from it all as well as he did.  
  
"Come on out," he said beckoning with his free hand.  
  
"I can't, I have to take these up to Tessa's suite, put them away, then collect her dirtied clothes, take them down to laundry room-"  
  
"Hermione, you work too hard."  
  
She shrugged in agreement.  
  
"There are worse things."  
  
"Indeed" he thought. Then aloud added, "No one will miss you for five minutes. Besides, you work like a horse all day and need a break."  
  
Her original excuse had been a feeble one, because at that she put down her basket and walked out. As she walked, she placed her hands at the bottom of her back, and arched it slightly. He felt a stab of sympathy for her. When she came to the Manor just after the end of the Revolution, she had just begun recovery from a back injury she had received from fighting. The constant toil of work put strain on her back, and had never allowed her to properly recover. As a result in a few years, it had been totally ruined, and she was in constant pain because of it.  
  
"How's your back feeling?" he asked when she reached him.  
  
"Fine, just a little sore from all the laundry," she lied, not letting him know exactly how much pain she was really in.  
  
He snorted in disbelief.  
  
"You really need to do something about it. If you don't it will only get worse and you won't be able to do anything by the time your forty."  
  
"Do something about it. Yes, I think I will. Maybe I'll talk to your mother. 'Narcissa, dear, can I not work endless hours for you and your family, because my back hurts?' Yes, I see that going over well, thank you for solving all my problems."  
  
He took in another breath of smoke and blew it out parallel to her, in order to spite her. He was rewarded when she wrinkled her nose in distaste.  
  
"You're absolutely impossible, I hope you know that."  
  
He pondered the statement for a while.  
  
"Yes, I did. As a matter of fact, Pansy tells me that all the time."  
  
"That's probably the only intelligent thing to ever come out of that bitch's mouth."  
  
"Despite how shrewd and possible accurate your opinion of her is, it would probably do you good not to refer to Pansy as 'that bitch,'" he replied curtly as he tapped the end of the fag on the balcony. After a close examination he decided it was officially dead, dropped it to the ground and smashed it with the heel of his boot. When he looked back up he met Hermione's disproving glare.  
  
"Someone's going to have to scrub that spot in the morning. And if it's me I will personally find every last fag in this house and destroy them," she threatened placing her left hand on her back again.  
  
Amused, he watched her as she tried to knead the pain out with her one hand.  
  
"That isn't going to help too much. You can't apply enough pressure or cover enough of the area of your back."  
  
He chuckled as she gave him a look of pure exasperation.  
  
"Thank you Sherlock, not only did you tell me something I already knew, but you also contributed nothing to the solution of the problem."  
  
"Well, I am exceptionally good at that."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "That's for sure," under her breath, just loud enough for him to barely catch it. She continued rubbing her back for a while longer before giving up. He was right, there was little good she could do on her own. She closed her eyes, enjoying her few moments of freedom, and trying to distract herself from her aching back.  
  
"Someday, that Phoenix Experiment, or whatever it's called, is going to rise up and blow you out of the water. And when it does, the first thing I'm going to do is hire a personal masseuse."  
  
She smiled as she heard him snort. It was with either surprise or laughter, she really couldn't tell just by the sound of it.  
  
"That's the first thing you're going to do? You're not going to try to find your son or anyone else in your family, for that matter. You're going to go find a masseuse."  
  
His voice was full of disbelief, that wasn't swept away with her fervent nod.  
  
"They'll still be there when my massage is over. But I can't guarantee my back will be without one."  
  
He studied her face for a moment, and then searched his pocket for another fag. Having successfully found one, he lit it, then turned back to her.  
  
"You're weird."  
  
She let out a laugh that broke the empty silence of the night. He shook his head in amazement and went back to smoking.  
  
*  
  
Hank was a pacifist. When Kathleen had asked him about it, he merely replied 'I've already lived through two wars, and I pray I don't have to live through another.' And with that he went back to his firewhisky with a nod to the customer who had just entered the pub.  
  
This wasn't really a surprise to anyone who knew him. Hank was against everything. War topped an ever growing list which included the government, the rebels, the banking system, prostitution, DEs, terrorists, drugs, premarital sex, birth control, abortion, and about everything else in the world. The only thing he openly supported, that Kathleen could think of, was alcohol. And he would probably oppose that if he didn't own a pub.  
  
Hank was probably the only Hogsmeade local who didn't want to see Operation Phoenix destroy the Regierung. That was why it was so ironic that every Saturday, Monday, and Thursday the members of the most well known, and successful, resistance group, met in his cellar.  
  
Kathleen had long ago acquired the key to the back cellar door. It proved to be irreplaceable, as it gave the members entrance to the cellar without actually entering the pub. It would have been next to impossible for Kathleen and Will to smuggle everyone behind the bar and into the cellar without attracting Hanks' attention.  
  
They were a relatively small group. However this was by plan, rather then accident. Roy Creevey, founder and leader of the group, would only allow in people he knew, without a shadow of doubt, could be trusted. The smaller numbers also allowed easier organization, and meant less attention to the individuals.  
  
It was a dominant male environment; the only other female in the group was Eileen Finnigan, who Kathleen suspected was there more for reputation then anything else. Towards the end of the Revolution, Eileen's uncle Seamus had switched sides and joined the DE forces. His betrayal had been a deciding factor in the outcome of the final battle, and had led to Kathleen's father's capture and eventual death. Today he held a prominent position as Head of Security for the Malfoys. This shamed Eileen's family to no end, and Eileen had made it her personal mission to life to alienate herself from her uncle's legacy.  
  
Roy was excited. He seemed totally exasperated as members divulged in small talk and rushed them through the talk of money and supplies. 'This means he has an idea,' Will thought. Which was unusual, as Roy like to let time elapse between strikes. 'Which means it's something big,' Will realized grimly.  
  
As talk died down, Roy stood exuberantly. Kathleen stared at him unimpressed.  
  
"This better be good," she muttered to Will. "We don't need another disaster like the one at Breckenridge."  
  
Will nodded in agreement. While ambitious, Roy tended not to focus on the details within his plans. He tried to conduct a raid at the town of Breckenridge, in York. Breckenridge, a Regierung hotbed, was also the location of the Malfoy Estate. What Roy hadn't thought of was that there would be increased security there in order to protect the Imperial family. The raid was unsuccessful and had caused them to lose two members to DE curses.  
  
"As you all know," Roy started, "Next weekend is the Regierung's Imperial Ball. All of the Regierung official, and their families, attend-"  
  
"Yes, Roy, we know all this. Cut to the chase."  
  
"I was getting there, Andrew, if you would be more patient. As I was saying, all of their family members will be there. Now let's talk about Draco Malfoy."  
  
"What about him?" Will asked.  
  
"Well, he was once a fearless fighter, but he's lost his backbone since his children were born. He's so concerned about his kids, that he doesn't like to get involved in the Regierung too much."  
  
"What's your point, Roy?"  
  
"My point is, that he is aware of this as well. In fact, our contact in the Manor has informed me that at the Imperial Ball, Draco will abdicate his right as heir, and name his son Dacian as Lucius' heir."  
  
This pronouncement was immediately followed by a wave of whispers, as everyone assessed the situation. Kathleen was the only one who silently absorbed the situation.  
  
"Now," Roy began again, and the noise immediately died, "My contact has also informed me that for security reasons, the Malfoys take four of their limousines when traveling. In the first one is Draco and Pansy's daughter, along with slaves and security. The second one is Lucius and Narcissa's. Draco and Pansy are in the third one, and Dacian brings up the rear. On top of his security and all that, he will also be accompanied by Melina Flint, his current girlfriend."  
  
"Flint?" Eileen asked slowly. "Is she related to that drunkard who comes down to the pub every weekend?"  
  
"Does it really matter?" Roy snapped. "Look, here's the plan. It's fifty miles between Anguitenentis Gate and Breckenridge. That will give us plenty of time."  
  
"Time for what!" Kathleen snapped impatiently.  
  
"Time to hijack Dacian's limo and kidnap the newly named Regierung heir."  
  
*  
  
A/N: Sorry, this took a lot longer then I expected. Once again (for those of you who didn't read the note on my bio) this is the un-betaed version, so it may be reposted. The next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long, especially since I'm out of school.  
  
However, I'll warn you that I'm still in total shock of my second favorite character being killed in OOTP. I won't say names for those of you who haven't had the privilege of having your heart ripped out and stomped on by Mrs. Joanne Kathleen Rowling-Murray (wow, who else is impressed that I know her full name), but I'm having a hard time dealing. Chocolate will help if anyone's interested.  
  
By the way, as I was informed, a fag is the British slang for cigarette incase anyone was confuses. I just thought it was funny. 


End file.
